'None that I've heard of,' 829 said.

The synthoid guards were the first obstacle. Aside from their integral weapons they were as strong as ten men.

Attacking them physically was futile, but even so any such attempt was severely punished. They applied discipline rigidly but impartially, without any malice or cruelty, and you could call them any names you wanted without insulting them. In all they made bad targets for hate or resentment, which was reserved for their masters up on Averon, especially Baal.

Meanwhile the synthoids oversaw everything, never sleeping, eternally vigilant. And even if you could somehow bypa.s.s them and the electrified perimeter fence, there was always the ident plates. n.o.body knew what the effective radius of control was, but there seemed little chance of ever getting beyond it before they were activated. And even if you did, where was there to run to?

There was rumoured to be a naval base somewhere else on the moon, which would probably be even better guarded and more dangerous than the work camp. Sarah had already seen the highlands and doubted if you could live there very long, and the lava plain offered nothing better.

Then a terrible thought struck her for the first time: suppose Harry or the Doctor had also landed up there in the highlands?

No. If they had then the extra patrols Baal had ordered would have found them by now, or they would have found the base as she had. Unless they were dead. No! She would not believe that.

Depressed by her thoughts and the company, Sarah made her way to the washrooms adjacent to her dormitory hall, which was a.s.signed to all female workers irrespective of their species. The water was tepid and laced with cleaning and anti-bacterial chemicals. Averon didn't want its workers coming down with inconvenient diseases.

The dormitory itself consisted of row upon row of simple frame bunk beds with the minimum of bedding. The rooms were always either slightly too hot, or slightly too cold. Was it chance or all part of the plan to sap their will a little further?

There were no bedside lockers because n.o.body had any possessions worthy of note, except the clothes they stood up in. There was a basic automated facility for cleaning clothes.

When they fell to pieces apparently a one-piece coverall was provided. Three-quarters of the workforce wore such utilitarian garments.

For the first few days after her arrival some of the women in her section asked her questions about where she came from.

Unsure of what might reach the ears of Baal, she stuck to generalizations, while learning as much as possible about the history of the war. A few of them simply stared at her, just for the diversion of seeing a new face. The looks some of the men gave her also concerned her at first, but she soon realized she was perfectly safe from any unwanted attentions. The guards made efficient, perhaps too efficient, chaperons. A cry would alert them, and any a.s.sault or violent behaviour was ruthlessly punished. Some couples did manage to evade the guards briefly, and perhaps this was tolerated not out of any sense of humanity, but simply in the interests of efficiency. There had to be some safety valves in the system, allowing a few sc.r.a.ps of pleasure to be gleaned.

There was no structured entertainment except what they made for themselves outside working hours, and the general all-pervasive exhaustion limited this mainly to talking and desultory word games and storytelling. The only regular pastime was watching the great cargo ships arrive and depart, perhaps in the forlorn hope of rescue or escape, or simply for the spectacle they offered.

Ships brought supplies and the components of the synthonic weapons up from Averon for final a.s.sembly and testing, Most items were factory fresh and had to be unwrapped from their utility packaging, which was one of Sarah's mundane tasks. Occa.s.sionally other ships brought parts of damaged battle machines back from war zones on other worlds, and several times Sarah had wheeled trolley loads of such salvaged items to a small building at the back of one of the worksheds, casually known as the 'junk room', where they were sorted, sealed and labelled. Ships leaving empty regularly carried these specimens away, presumably for further examination on Averon. Infrequently they received a consignment of unused Alliance war machines, captured before they could even be activated. These were reprogrammed and their exteriors refitted with the different markings of Union allies.

'Averons have a malicious sense of humour,' 829 said, confirming her earlier a.s.sessment of them. 'They enjoy using our own weapons against us.'

Naturally none of the devices or weapons were powered up until they left the workers' compound. The synthoids handled that final procedure in one of the separate and heavily guarded central domes. Sometimes they saw the results of their labours marching themselves on to the cargo ships out on the lava flats beyond the perimeter fence, where the tiny figures of their alien crews oversaw the loading process. Then the ship would lift off for some far distant Union world, and the workers could only hope the weapons they had helped a.s.semble were not used against their own kind.

As the dormitory began to fill, Sarah rolled herself up in her thin blankets and pulled them over her face, partly so that she would not see the blank faces of her fellows, but mostly so that they would not see hers. She had never been in such a situation: subdued by routine and order that was hard and restrictive enough to function, yet not quite severe enough to make you risk anything to escape it. There seemed nothing to push against. So easy to let go and wait for the Doctor to rescue her, as usual, and let hope dribble through her fingers until there was nothing left. No! She scratched at her ident plate irritably. She must at least try to find some way out. But how? She was too tired. Maybe tomorrow.

'Apathy rules, OK?' she thought dully, then fell asleep.

The next day was a virtual copy of the one before.

The day after proved that the desire for freedom could never be entirely subdued, and courage and determination had not died on Averon's moon.

His number, she found out afterwards, was 178. Though ident plates were rea.s.signed, perhaps its lowness truly indicated how long he had spent on the moon. Had he just cracked after too many years, or had he been meticulously planning his escape all that time?

It happened at shift changeover. The first thing Sarah heard was a great shout from outside, just as she and 829 emerged from the workshed. They looked up in surprise to see a man from their replacement shift had left his file and was sprinting towards the fence which separated them from the lava flats and the landing field. He seemed to be tying a thick bandanna around his head as he ran.

'He'll never climb it. No toe holds the mesh is too fine,'

829 said flatly.

The synthoids seemed to think the same, for they held their fire, and one started after the runner at no great pace. But the man leaped at the fence, clung, and began to climb. Sarah could just make out short spikes projecting from the toes of his boots, strips of material wrapped around his hands and, for some reason, trailing wires. The synthoid hesitated for a moment, then raised his gun arm and fired. Blue fire licked around the man. He shivered, but then seemed to shrug off the stun charge and continued climbing. Sparks flowed from his trailing wires into the fence. There was a stir of surprise in the ranks.

'He's earthed and insulated!' somebody shouted.

He must have been. The electrified strands at the top of the fence did not stop him. By the time the synthoid fired at higher power the man was dropping down the other side, and the dense wire mesh absorbed some of the bolt's charge even as it blew apart in molten droplets.

'Do it!' 829 shouted, and for the first time Sarah saw fire and hope in her eyes. She broke ranks and ran to the fence. A synthoid commanded her to stop but she ignored it. The rest surged after her, carrying Sarah along with them. The synthoids fell silent, apparently realizing they were not trying to escape, but the throng slowed them down and divided their attention. Was that why the man was making his escape now, Sarah wondered? They pressed against the fence, grasping the heavy mesh so hard it cut their skin.

'Yes do it!' 829 was shrieking, and the chant was taken up by the rest.

A synthoid patrolling outside the fence pounded along to intercept the escaper as he hit the ground. The man pulled a ball from inside his shirt and threw it at the guard's head. It burst like black syrup across its visor, and it reeled about momentarily blinded, clawing at the sticky mess. The man dashed past it, heading for the flat cars parked outside the perimeter fence which were used to load and unload cargo packs from the ships.

'Yes! Run! Do it!' they chanted and shouted. Just one man, but he was escaping for all of them.

Then they felt the tingle in their ident plates: the leakage across the channels of a ma.s.sive surge of power. Whatever shielding the man had used over his own plate against the standard signal was insufficient to stop the high intensity burst triggered by the guards in the control domes. He clutched his head, staggered another couple of steps, then collapsed.

There was a leaden groan from the rest of the prisoners and a moment of frozen despair. Then they slumped against the fence, the raw energy that had momentarily galvanized them draining away. Sarah saw the light die in 829's eyes. One by one, shoulders drooping, the crowd began to disperse as the guards marshalled them back to their places. A synthoid picked up the escaper's limp body and carried him towards the nearest fence gate.

'He almost made it,' somebody said.

'He got twenty metres beyond the wire for all the good it did him,' a second retorted angrily. 'Even if he'd reached the cars, where would he have gone?'

'He must have had some plan.'

'You can never get away from the signal,' a third stated.

'Well, at least he had the courage to try,' Sarah said sharply, trying to keep her own hope alive. 'And if it can be done once it can be done again, but better.'

'They'll find out what he was using to shield his plate and make sure it won't work a second time,' 829 said.

'Do you really believe there's no escape?' Sarah asked.

'Only one,' 829 said bitterly. Her eyes turned towards the cemetery.

178's limp form was carried into a control dome by the guards. He was never seen again.

10.

Unorthodox Methods omar'yat was the administrative capital of Jand's south co T ntinent. It was a grandly scaled but s.p.a.cious city, with broad tree-lined boulevards backed by tall buildings fashioned in the curving walled, tiered and domed style Harry was becoming accustomed to. The only significant difference to the more modest structures of the country was the addition of heavy relief ornamentation, giving them a slightly baroque aspect. This contrasted oddly with the bright banners and garlands that hung from trees and across several streets proclaiming victory over the Nethra.s.s. Tomar'yat had not escaped the war unscathed, as the gutted sh.e.l.ls of several buildings along its First Avenue showed, but the debris was already being cleared away and Ch.e.l.l's staff car only had to make a couple of detours to reach its destination.

This was a large public building with a landing platform on its flat roof. As they approached they saw a Landoran s.p.a.ce ferry lift off and vanish into the clouds, presumably to rendezvous with the battle squadron presently in orbit over Jand.

Harry's heart sank at the sight. He did not want to meet any Landorans just yet, but it was hard to refuse Ch.e.l.l, who seemed to think that his support might add weight to the proposal he was taking to his allies. Harry didn't want to disillusion the solider, but he feared his presence would be anything but helpful.

The upper two floors of the building had been a.s.signed to the Landorans as temporary quarters, and there Harry, Ch.e.l.l and his aide Nacroth'ves waited for twenty minutes in an ante-room before being ushered into the presence of Commodore Gillsen and three members of his staff, seated along one side of a large imposing table. Gillsen was a clean-cut vigorous man only a few years older than Harry, but his clipped perfunctory manner did not bode well and his searching glance as Harry was introduced was most disconcerting. Ch.e.l.l started to explain his scheme, but Gillsen interrupted.

'Excuse me, Dekkilander Ch.e.l.l'lak, but I must first ask for clarification as to the status of "Lieutenant Sullivan". I see he is wearing a Jand service sash, but I was not aware of any Landorans in Jand military service, nor on Jand at all outside my own crews and our small diplomatic mission. How does he come to be here?'

'Do you not recognize him, Commodore?' Ch.e.l.l asked.

'We thought he was from your force; an escape pod survivor, perhaps. He has suffered loss of memory.'

'All our men are accounted for,' Gillsen said frostily.

Harry took a deep breath. There was no avoiding the matter any further. 'It's true that when I arrived here my memory was playing me up, sir,' he said respectfully, 'and I wasn't entirely sure who I was or where I came from. But over the last few days pretty well everything has come back to me, and I know I'm not from anywhere round here. I'm certainly not a Landoran.' He could see Ch.e.l.l looking at him in surprise, and added, 'I know it's a bit of a shock, but perhaps if I explained everything?'

'I think perhaps you'd better, Sullivan,' Gillsen said.

Harry related a condensed version of his origins and arrival on Jand, keeping the more fantastic elements such as Time Lords and TARDISes carefully vague. When he finished, Gillsen conducted a whispered dialogue with one of his staff, who eventually nodded, and left the room. 'This story will have to be investigated, of course,' Gillsen said stiffly to Ch.e.l.l. 'Meanwhile it would be best if this man withdraws while we discuss your proposal, Dekkilander Ch.e.l.l'lak.'

'Harry'sullivan is here as my personal a.s.sistant,' Ch.e.l.l replied with equal stiffness. 'Whatever his past may or may not be, I vouch for his character and wish him to remain.'

'Very well,' Gillsen said with evident reluctance.

'Proceed.'

'I believe we have a means to bring this war with the Nethra.s.s, and perhaps other conflicts, to a rapid conclusion,'

said Ch.e.l.l bluntly. That got the Landorans' attention, Harry noted with a smile. They all sat up and looked at Ch.e.l.l very hard indeed. Ch.e.l.l signalled to Nacroth'ves, who placed a slim case on the table and opened it up to display the contents. The Landorans frowned at the electronics package bristling with b.u.t.tons, meters and sprays of coiled wire connectors contained within. Ch.e.l.l continued: 'It is the advanced weaponry that the Nethra.s.s obtain from their masters on Averon that allows them to perpetrate this war. Without those they would never dare attempt a landing on Jand. Averon itself may be impregnable, but it has been speculated that the Union uses some secret intermediate staging post or distribution centre for its shipments. If we can track a vessel to that and it could be eliminated or blockaded '

'Excuse me,' one of Gillsen's aides interrupted with a trace of condescension in his words. 'This idea has been put forward many times before. The problems of tracking and intercepting a ship in deep s.p.a.ce, let alone hypers.p.a.ce, are simply too great for it to be practical.'

Ch.e.l.l gave a toothy Jand smile. 'Our scientists may not be the equal of yours in some fields of knowledge and many of our research centres lie in ruins thanks to the war, but we are not without ingenuity.' He tapped the device in the case. 'This is a detector amplifier unit, compatible with the systems your ships employ. I am told it will increase their efficiency, and so their effective range, by between three and five hundred per cent, making continuous detection and tracking of ships in both normal and hypers.p.a.ce a realistic possibility for the first time. Here are the results of our tests.' He handed over a bound sheaf of computer printouts and graphs. 'You will see they confirm the improved performance of a standard detector array using the new equipment.'

Harry thought the Landorans looked a little unsettled by Ch.e.l.l's presentation. They'd probably become accustomed to being at the leading edge of technological innovation. Well, perhaps their complacency needed a little shake-up.

'This is clearly most remarkable,' Gillsen said after a few minutes' study. 'Have you attempted to use this device in practice yet?'

'No. That is why we need your help. The tracer is useless without a fast craft to carry it. Only Landoran ships equal those of Averon in speed and armament. If this unit could be mounted in one of your craft '

'Regrettably that is not possible,' Gillsen said flatly.

Ch.e.l.l looked astonished. 'For such an opportunity you cannot spare one ship? Not even a destroyer?'

'At this moment we can spare neither a ship nor a crew to try an essentially untested device such as this.' He leant forward intently. 'Why do you think we let your navy engage the last of the Nethra.s.s ships? We took heavy losses during our encounter with the Averons, and considerable secondary damage. Presently we are undertaking essential repairs and maintenance and giving a battle-weary crew some much needed sh.o.r.e leave.'

'Then we will supply the crew,' Ch.e.l.l said. 'We have more trained men than ships at present. Perhaps they could help with your repairs.'

'The offer is appreciated, but I must still refuse. Besides, the decision to incorporate alien technology into our craft is not one I am qualified to make. It will have to be determined at a higher level and the device a.s.sessed by our own technical staff. Perhaps, in due course, when they have '

Ch.e.l.l sniffed loudly, wrinkling his snout, indicating profound displeasure. 'I expected better from a Landoran officer. Are you incapable of taking responsibility for such a decision? If we delay we shall lose the opportunity to act now, when the Nethra.s.s are at their weakest and most likely to beg additional equipment from Averon.' He closed the case firmly.

'We shall keep the detector until we can utilize it properly ourselves.'

Gillsen said sharply, 'Are you denying the rest of the Alliance the potential benefits of your invention? Is this a good example of cooperation between allies?'

'Is your refusal to loan one ship a better one?' Ch.e.l.l replied in kind.

For a moment Harry thought the meeting might turn violent, but just then the aide who had been sent out earlier re-entered the room and handed a message slip to Gillsen. He read it then turned his gaze on Harry. 'This confirms there is no trace of you in our records, nor any indication as to how you arrived in this sector of s.p.a.ce. You will have to provide us with a fuller explanation of your presence here.'

'Us?' Ch.e.l.l said slowly. 'Do you mean collectively those represented here, or just the Landoran military?'

Gillsen hesitated. 'Well, he is human.'

'So? He is certainly not Averonian, or any member of the Union that I know of. Do you suggest he is a spy, a threat to the Alliance? I have seen him work on the battlefield under fire, treating friend and foe impartially '

'But that could mean '

'It means he is an innocent outsider, a stranger to our struggle, and dedicated to his profession. He wishes to stay on Jand to look for his friends, and I have no objection to this and neither do the civil authorities. Unless you think Jand is so vital to the Alliance that his presence poses some danger. But you will not even loan us a single ship to bring a speedier end to our troubles, so that can hardly be the case.'

Gillsen was getting red in the face. 'I only requested that he be '

'You did not; you a.s.sumed the right to take him as you pleased! You may have lost your world, but that does not give you the right to treat this planet as your own. Remember you are only guests here.'

'We are also your principle allies and suppliers of vital armaments!'

'As you frequently remind us.'

'Ungrateful goats,' muttered one of the Landorans, undoubtedly a little louder than he intended.

Ch.e.l.l leant over the table and punched him on the nose.

The man beside him lunged at Ch.e.l.l, but Nacroth'ves stepped in, caught his arm, twisted and sent him flying over the table to crash heavily to the floor. The man opposite Harry drew his pistol. Harry vaulted the table and kicked the gun from his hand. The man swung a wild punch at him which Harry blocked, even as he drove a couple of short jabs into his chin which caused his legs to fold under him. The man Ch.e.l.l had punched staggered back uncertainly, nose bleeding, looking as though he contemplated raising the alarm.

Nacroth'ves kicked him carefully in the stomach and he doubled up with a grunt. Gillsen tried to draw his pistol, but Ch.e.l.l jumped the table, knocking the commodore and his chair over. There was a sharp meaty thud, then Ch.e.l.l got to his feet and straightened his uniform. The entire fight had taken less than ten seconds.

Harry surveyed the unconscious forms.

'Well, that's torn it. Sorry, sir. I feel I'm rather responsible '